


The Last Thing You Should Do

by Silberias



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Stannis is a politician AU for the win!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-03
Updated: 2016-03-03
Packaged: 2018-05-24 11:55:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 7,960
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6152888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silberias/pseuds/Silberias
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five years ago Stannis sent her away, and because of a freak illness they crash together once again right as his campaign for Prime Minister is about to come tumbling to the ground.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Tommyginger](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tommyginger/gifts).



> Because TommyGinger needed it. And she gave me some lovely ideas for a Harrion Karstark/Sansa Stark fic to give to TheSweetestThing later on!

What have you been doing to yourself?

* * *

 

January 24th - Stannis

Stannis knew something was wrong when Davos purposefully blocked him from rushing out the door of the event hall and out to shake hands. He usually hated shaking hands and it was always a struggle for Davos--his overworked and probably terribly underpaid campaign manager--to force him to do it with as warm a smile as he could manage.

"There's blood in the water, Stannis," Davos said, his voice very low and his eyes serious, "someone was following up on a money trail and found another trail entirely." Sansa. They were going to find Sansa, sooner or later. Stannis squeezed his eyes shut, remembering her tears and her anger as he'd had his personal staff load up her belongings into the rented moving truck. Then the letter about a child, and then other letters firmly rejecting his attempts to help her with the costs incurred. It had been a mistake--he ruined her promising career and now--no. No. He would not bring up the issue if no one else did first.

"Thank you, Davos," Stannis said instead of a real reply to his friend, clenching and unclenching his jaw and setting his lips into a light smile to give to the cameras. Time to kiss some babies and try to forget about his own.

* * *

 

January 25th - Sansa

She'd received a call from Davos Seaworth about keeping a low profile. Sansa had agreed, biting back her bitterness as she spoke to the kindly but often firm man. Davos hadn't stopped Stannis Baratheon from jettisoning her from his life but he hadn't stood by quietly either. He was a remarkable man, she thought as she ended the call, loyal to a fault but still possessed by unwavering moral conviction. A good man, her poli sci degree murmured in the back of her head, to have run a campaign for a prickly man such as Stannis Baratheon.

It was hard at first when he decided she did nothing good for his image: cutting her out of his life, cutting her loose, before she could--what was his phrase? Take root. Before she could take root and ruin his perfect sidewalk. Sansa hadn't had it in her to gloat when she realized she was pregnant, and she'd hidden many of the details from the few people who still connected them. No one had asked her who her son's father was, no one had ever dared.

Not that her son Arric could be mistaken for a Stark or even a Tully. No, the boy looked just like his uncles. Just like his father. He might have been the man in miniature save she was sure that, even buried balls deep in a twenty year old intern, Stannis had never looked as relaxed and happy as Arric did from day to day. He was just approaching four, and she was a bit worried that with his schooling he would change. Become cold like his father, distant and quiet when she wanted warmth and closeness and laughter.

* * *

 

February 2nd - Sansa

Arric was running a bit of a fever when he came home from school due to a severe rash and Sansa thought nothing of it until he fell down shaking and convulsing--laying limp and seemingly lifeless on the floor. She had started to panic and then Jon had stepped in and started examining Arric, making sure his airways were clear while Sansa fumbled with her phone three times before she was able to stop shaking long enough to dial 911. If she'd been able to listen to the call she would have wept for the woman on the line, if that woman hadn't been her.

Nine one one what is your emergency--

He's four, he just got back from preschool--my son, he's collapsed, he--

Ma'am is he breathing?

I--I don't know--I--Jon is he--

Ma'am do you have someone helping you? Your son needs you to be as calm as you can--

My brother, my brother Jon. Jon Stark he's, he's a doctor--

Ma'am what is your street address?


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoy this chapter!

It's the last thing you should do.

* * *

Feburary 2nd - Stannis

Jon Stark called him late in the evening as he was reviewing polling numbers. He just wasn't quite keeping up with the popular and perfect Willas Tyrell. The man had every answer polished and ready, each one tailored to be palatable to both his audiences as well as the soundbytes that would inevitably follow on the heels of every debate. He was young and handsome. Stannis meanwhile kept to his convictions, staying his own course despite anyone else's comments or concerns. Just about the only one in his life besides Davos who would tell it just as straight back to him was Jon.

"Stannis, uh, hey. I," the man's voice sounded raw, like he'd been weeping. That he was keeping it together by a thread. Stannis set down the polling review and stared across his darkened living room as he waited for Jon to compose himself again.

"So Sansa, she is, uh," Sansa's face flashed through his mind, the idea of a redheaded little child that she claimed was his but wouldn't take his money for, but he held his tongue. Silence drew truth out of people better than even wine and arguments did.

"Her son, uhm, your son's been hospitalized. They're at King's General, in the Steel District. It's unclear what's going on--they spent the afternoon stablizing him, the tests are coming back soon. Stannis? Stannis--Stannis? Stannis are you there?"

* * *

 

It was meningitis, an incredibly high risk illness for a kid as young as hers. Sansa sat out in the waiting room, her tears all cried out and now she just sat in shock. Jon had stayed with her until his shift at the ER started and he had to start helping strangers, bringing them back from the brink of death. Thank all the gods that he'd been there picking up the scrubs that she'd washed the blood out of for him--his girlfriend Ygritte didn't care about stains and would just buy new scrubs, Arya was hopeless at getting blood out of cloth, Mother refused to help Jon ever since he'd refused to go to law school, and no one else in the family knew how to other than Sansa. And Jon was terribly attached to his ugly faded black scrubs.

She didn't want to think of what would have happened to her boy if her brother hadn't been there.

Time was a bit meaningless to her until someone handed her a cup of tea, the strong scent of honey and lemon wafting up in the steam. Sansa barely took in the long fingers, the well kept nails, as she took the tea and wrapped her hands around it--completely numb.

Arric was vaccinated, she'd made sure of it. He was supposed to be safe to go to school. Now he had contracted an illness that--tears slipped from her eyes unbidden and burned down her cheeks.

* * *

 

She was non-responsive and he sought out her brother to learn more. Sansa sat very still in the glassed-in waiting room, the tea he'd hesitantly prepared for her clutched in her hands but otherwise untouched. Jon's gray eyes had lingered on her shoulders as he and Stannis spoke out in the hallway in low tones.

Stannis knew that he wasn't listed on the birth certificate of little Arric Stark--though she'd been interning when they'd met she was extremely sharp in terms of scandals and public relations. For all that she was young and foolish, impulsive enough to take up with him and without enough experience to see through him to what he was, she knew that it would doubly ruin her career and ruin his as well to list him as her child's father. For one thing Robert would demand a paternity test, having been burned not once or twice but three times with his own children, and then there were the rumor mills of Friday night news channels that put Stannis as the gay Baratheon and Renly has the skirtchasing playboy and Robert as the serious one. As if.

"So he's in a coma, medically," Jon was saying, his eyes still fastened on his sister, "just until they can get the swelling down around his brain and spine. It would be better to have caught it sooner, but kids get rashes, they get fevers. You can't call every fever or rash meningitis."

"I see, thank you Doctor Stark," Stannis said, maintaining a sense of decorum as he was in a public space. There would be time later to react in a more casual manner later.

Damn her! There were vaccines for these kinds of things--and now probably the only good thing to come of their old relationship was in danger, possibly mortal danger, and she was one of those idiots who basked in the privilege of a disease-free childhood and didn't care to pass it on to their own children.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, thank you and let me know what you think of this chapter!


	3. Chapter 3

Nobody laughs any more

* * *

 

Arya promised to relieve her for an hour or two so she could shower and get new clothes and Sansa was half-drunk from lack of sleep and her anxiety over her son--she tripped as she left the waiting room and fell into someone's arms, strong hands clasping firmly around her upper arms. For a moment it was so wonderful to be held and Sansa wanted to rest more of her weight against those hands--but when she looked up at her momentary rescuer she froze.

He had said--he'd said he would keep his distance. What the hell was he doing here? What was he doing catching her before she fell down like a drunk? What was Stannis Baratheon--who was supposed to be making the rounds of public appearances as he ran for Prime Minister--doing at King's General?

"You are leaving?"

"Arya is making me. Just to get a change of clothes, I've been--" Sansa replied without thinking, the words falling from her lips before she was able to button things back together. Stannis Baratheon didn't deserve to know anything about her life, he'd said he wanted nothing more to do with her when she'd been crying in the ransacked kitchen the day he'd broken up with her.

"Let me drive you, you're in no state," he said when her words stuck in her throat. She knew who had told him--Jon--and she hated him. She hated that she needed him, wanted any other way out.

"A cab, I can take a cab, I'm sorry--" she tried to move past him but he didn't let her, shaking his head with exasperation and leading her out with a firm hand to the parking lot.

* * *

 

"Don't go home," Davos said in terse tones over the phone, the sounds of press clambering for answers behind him in the distance, "they found your little fling. It'll only be a matter of time before they realize the extent of things, so you'd best prepare."

"I have her with me," Stannis said, glancing at Sansa as she dozed in her seat. She was beautiful, the angles of her jaw and cheekbones more developed now, though she was still furious with him. The feeling was a bit returned, though, on account of her keeping his son from him--cutting him out of the boy's life almost completely. He was sure that if she was able to, Sansa Stark would never let Arric Stark know who his father was.

Davos was silent on the line, but the background noise had Stannis grinding his teeth. He didn't have time to put out fires erupting from an old affair, an illegitimate child, and the fact that Sansa had failed to vaccinate the boy only added to his worries and frustrations.

"Don't go home," his friend repeated, letting it sink in, "and don't linger at hers either. Mel can whip up a sudden religious personal day for today, but tomorrow you have to be on-point. This was an uphill fight already, Stannis."

Stannis didn't dignify that with an answer--he already knew that full well.

* * *

 

He parked a block away and walked with her up to her house. It was a small affair but it served her and Arric well enough. It was close to the hospital and Jon was a frequent visitor. Of her siblings he and Arya were the most enthusiastic babysitters for Arric, spoiling him and giving him the time that Sansa sometimes wasn't able to with her work as a minor lobbyist in the King's Parliament on behalf of the Riverlands. She had long hours during the sessions but thankfully the session hadn't started yet for spring.

How she was going to care for Arric in his recovery she didn't yet know, but she would certainly try her best. Perhaps her mother would look in on him at times? The amusing thought that Stannis would care about her problems crossed her mind but she quickly set it aside.

Once the door was shut behind them the tirade started and Sansa bore it as best she could until he rounded on the subject of vaccinations--accusing her of not seeing to her son properly. Sansa had no words, storming over to the man and backhanding him--the crack of her hand on his cheek echoed through her empty house. Tears, damned tears again, fell down her cheeks and she took a few huge breaths in as he stretched his jaw and slowly turned back to face her.

Sansa slapped him again, putting as much weight behind herself as she could.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is a real ice cream they make up here in Portland that is jet black, minty & spicy and bizarre. Thank you all for your support for this little story!
> 
> I meant to just post 3 chapters tonight, but UKCat is sick so I wanted to give another one before I headed off to bed. I hope you enjoy!

It's the worst thing you can do.

* * *

 

"How dare you--how dare you, how dare you accuse me of not doing my utmo--"

He scoffed and paced away from her, forcing himself to keep from rubbing away the sting that numbed half his face, and rounded back on her within moments.

"You refused any assistance for him, you cut all the ties you could, and now you've been either stupid enough or--"

Another crack across the face waited for him but he stepped out of her reach before the blow connected. The weight she put behind it carried her around and she bent in half, sinking to the floor and holding her arms close around her legs. Stannis was a little at a loss, his tirade interrupted by the way Sansa deflated in front of him. She looked the way he felt after a long day of campaign appearances. Worn and ragged, a sponge rung out until it was dry.

"Stupid, stubborn, unable, unreasonable, that's all you've had to say about me, all you've had to say with words and silence at all for the past hour," her voice was despondent, "but never once have you asked what's been done, you've never even said his name. Let alone if he has a good prognosis or not. No, none of that, only his failed slut of a mother." Stannis felt like she'd slapped him yet again with those words but she wasn't done.

Now she lay her head on her knees, looking small and frail in the dimness inside her house.

"Arric is mine in a way you would never let yourself be, he's happy with me being his world. I'm enough for him, and now I might lose him."

* * *

 

Sansa thanked whatever god was looking out for her that she wasn't crying as she admitted these things to Stannis, and she thanked them even more when she heard his shoes retreat away from her before she dragged herself up enough to stumble to her couch and flop onto it. The doctor had said Arric had a good prognosis but she'd seen Jon's face at the hospital. He knew it wasn't good, and he'd quietly shared with her some of the horrifying complications that might arise.

Mostly she'd felt numb since he told her, and her anger with Stannis had fizzled out the moment he'd retreated out of the house--

"Here, you'll need it. You didn't eat anything since breakfast knowing you," Stannis' voice washed over her and she barely had enough left in her to twitch at it. He was standing just a bit away from her, setting a pint of her special ice cream on the coffee table with a spoon. It was her favorite flavor, almost completely black and starting out minty but ending up with the spiciness of peppers and chocolate.

Part of her wanted to throw it at him, but it was oddly sweet of him to look after her.

"His name is Arric Stark," Stannis said as she cradled the ice cream to herself, his voice hoarse from some bizarre fit of emotion he must have been feeling, "and I've never met him. Your brother called me from the hospital, he told me that if Arric can make it through the next seventy two hours that he will most likely pull through. I am..." he trailed off and slowly sat down on the far end of the couch, "not devastated, but I am furious that by keeping my distance I've allowed you to put a child in such danger." His voice was cold then and it had Sansa swallowing back her tears so she could be of similar composure.

She took the ice cream with her when she stood up and went to her office--opening up Arric's folders. His birth certificate, his insurance documents, his ID numbers, his medical history, and most importantly his vaccination records. Stannis wouldn't listen to her, not once he'd made up his mind would he change it unless presented with cold and hard facts.

* * *

 

He couldn't help but admire her red hair as it swung freely across her back. There had been a time when she walked around his flat nearly naked save the modesty a pair of lace panties and her own hair provided her. Sansa Stark was a beauty, and he'd been strong enough to deny himself her company because he knew better. She was a young woman, hardly twenty when he'd first met her, and he knew he was likely nothing more than a phase. Just as he'd hoped she was a phase. Sansa had made Stannis feel young and virile at a time in his life when he'd had a lot of self-doubt.

A failed engagement to a woman of his own age and profession had made him falter--Selyse had seemed a cool but perfect match to what he thought he needed in life. Back then the most he'd hoped to accomplish was becoming an aiding Minister or Secretary, something solid and staid. His relationship with Sansa had made him realize he had a lot of life left to live--and that fanciful ideas such as possibly becoming the Prime Minister of Westeros weren't so far fetched after all.

Davos had told him not to break up with her, or to at least not break up with her the way he had. It was for the best, he repeated in his mind endlessly the day he'd in essence thrown her out, she wouldn't appreciate staying with a man so much older now that they'd had their fun. The intracacies of being in a relationship with an established politician weren't ones that a woman Sansa's age would appreciate or possibly even bother to learn. Stannis didn't have time to teach her, and he didn't have the strength to gently break things to her.

It had needed to be abrupt, or he would never have been able to let her go. Given that her inadequacies as a parent had led to the hospitalization of his son, Stannis knew he'd made the right decision years ago. That a four year old boy was fighting for his life on account of choices made back then was unfortunate but what scandals might Sansa have embroiled him in had she stayed?


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am a vain peacock and am going back on my word a second time...

Save the last dance for me

* * *

 

She slapped the small stack of papers down on the coffee table in front of Stannis, flopping into the rocking chair that her great uncle Brynden had given her so she could sit with Arric when he was nursing. On Friday nights she and her boy would still sit in the chair and watch a movie together, though he was getting to be too big to share the seat with her. The ice cream was quickly pried open and she dug her spoon into the stuff, fully intending on finishing the pint before calling a cab back to the hospital.

Stannis still had all of his sharp Baratheon looks from five years ago, unlike his older brother Robert who she was convinced had some sort of thyroid problem. Her old flame had lost more of his hair since they'd broken up, and his beard was more salt than pepper now. It was still cropped close to his face, though. She used to giggle and moan when he would--no, none of that now. Sansa was sure he was being an idiot, and hopefully seeing it in clear black and white would shed some light on the situation.

The living room was terribly quiet for the next few minutes--she ate her ice cream, taking small comfort in the ridiculous spiciness and obtuse coloring, and Stannis read over the papers she'd produced. She didn't say anything, she already knew everything on them. Arric was a bit sickly for his age, getting frequent ear infections, but otherwise he was perfectly on schedule for his vaccines and other check-ups. Five years ago she hadn't had anything to prove to her lover that she wanted him, that she needed him--anything she said was met with hard denials on his part, and in the end Sansa had lost him.

This would be different.

* * *

 

He'd done the math long ago--she would have been only a few weeks along when he'd had her move out of his place. It was all laid out here too, every appointment she'd gone to. The tests, her admittance that the child's father was 'around forty,' for purposes of identifying abnormalities in the baby. Something dark chewed at his gut as he read about her son. His son. It was a feeling he didn't get very often but he could recognize it quickly and easily.

Stannis knew, before he even picked it out of the other papers, that he was about to be dead wrong about something.

Sansa was sitting a little away from him in a rocking chair, ignoring him in favor of the ghastly black ice cream she was eating. Probably enjoying watching him squirm, and Stannis didn't begrudge her that feeling as he read the sheet and knew that he would have to eat his words. After how he'd treated her the last time they'd been face to face, and how he'd acted this evening, he deserved whatever crow she made him eat. It would serve as appetizer for the round of apologetic press conferences he would be made to hold over the next few days.

"So he's just gotten over the flu," he murmured, setting aside Arric's medical records and scrubbing a hand across his mouth, "and caught this nonsense from some other idiot."

His ex-girlfriend didn't even glance his way. Stannis heard, distantly in his mind, Davos telling him to do the right thing. Five years ago Davos had said to try out another engagement, that Sansa's acumen was similar to his own and would help him thrive, and that it was the right thing to do in the circumstances. He'd ignored that advice at his own misery. At hers too.

"Sansa I'm sorry, I--I accused you baselessly."

She cocked a sarcastic eyebrow at that, still intent on her ice cream. Suddenly Stannis was sad for the time with her he'd missed, especially now that everything was crashing down around his ears. The scandal he'd sought to avoid by breaking up with her was coming for him despite everything.

* * *

 

He was quiet after his realization and she left him to it for a long ten minutes--until she was at the very last few bites of ice cream and looking into the mostly empty container. The spice of the mole plucked nicely against the coolness of the mint and she risked a glance up at Stannis. He was calm, waiting for whatever fate she meant to dole out to him. In the dimness of the house she appreciated the hawkish nose he had, the way his dark blue eyes looked black as he stared at nothing.

"Here, you have the rest of it," she said, making her way to stand next to him and giving him the container and the spoon. She needed to have a shower and grab a bag of clothes--surely Jon would find somewhere for her to sleep in the hospital while her son recovered? Stannis didn't take the ice cream container though, only stared up at her with haunted eyes. Sansa didn't waver, staring him down. He would acknowledge this life she'd carved out for herself. He had to.

It was incredibly surprising, then, when he shot up from his seat and cradled her head in his hands--thumbs brushing down her cheeks as he hesitated--and then he was leaning in and pressing a kiss to her mouth.

What was even more surprising was how much she wanted to keep on kissing him--his mouth was hot against hers, just as his fingers were when they slithered under her blouse to splay wide against her skin, and they were each tugging to remove clothing almost roughly. Not quite though, there were elements of hesitation that both of them expressed, and Sansa was a little embarrassed to let him see how her body had changed over the years. Gone was the perfect body from her early twenties, stolen by Arric both before and after his birth. At least the sun had set some time ago and the sky was darkening steadily--he wouldn't see every imperfection.

Stannis ended up on top when they finally hit the couch--the touch of spice in the ice cream must have been getting to him finally for he'd slowed down significantly now, every movement tortuously slow as he ground himself against her.

* * *

 

He couldn't drag his mouth away from hers, working his fingers through her hair and keeping her pinned underneath him. Her skin was smooth and warm, and she was blistering with heat against his thigh--getting wetter by the second. Their separation had been a terrible plan--and Stannis pushed away from his mind the idea that this was a one-off, that when her son was through this she would look at this as a mistake.

For now though it was not.

Sansa, his Sansa--he couldn't think past that simple fact as she took him in hand and lined him up, whimpering when he pushed in. The damned ice cream she'd been eating, all spice and mint, prickled at his tongue even as he gasped in a breath and hid his face in the crook of her neck.

Her nails scraped his scalp as she desperately brought his face up to hers once more, breathing in his breaths as he gently started moving over her. Sansa's blue eyes, far lighter and brighter than his own, stayed on his with undisguised hunger though her breath did hitch every time he pushed into her.

The sounds coming out of each of them--high and breathy from Sansa, a few determined grunts on his part--quickly started to get the better of him. It had been a long time since he'd had a quick fuck like this, longer--far longer--still since he'd had Sansa. And she wouldn't let him near after this, something reminded him, and he slowed down to a snail's pace. Stannis would savor every errant twitch of her body, linger in every kiss, and make her come before he lost himself.

With this in mind Stannis held her close and lavished attention to every bit of skin he could reach, circling her clit with his thumb, and only gentled after she finally came--breathy sighs morphing into gasping breaths with his name littered in between them.


	6. Chapter 6

Catch the last bus with me.

* * *

 

It was warm and comforting to lay wrapped up in Stannis' arms after they'd had their way with one another. Her hip was starting to protest the angle though, and Sansa knew she would really have to shower now--Arya could smell a one-night stand a mile away when looking at any of their brothers, she didn't need to give her sister any ammo. Still, Stannis Baratheon made one hell of a body pillow.

He pressed a long kiss to her cheek and then her mouth when she tried to shift him, his thumb stroking her cheek sweetly.

"Stannis, we have to get up," she said when he laid his cheek to her shoulder, and she considered her next words very carefully, "we have to get showered before--before we go back to the hospital."

They lay in silence, their bodies cooling in the dark living room, while Stannis considered her words.

"That's true," he eventually said and Sansa turned his face towards hers once more and kissed him. His beard scratched her, and she remembered when that feeling had been commonplace, something she looked forward to at the beginning and end of each day. Without paining her, tears welled in her eyes and rolled down her cheeks. Stannis had hurt her before, it was weak of her to let him have opportunity to do it again.

She could hardly expect he would put his campaign at risk over her and her son. Having a baby with a former intern was hardly the done thing.

"Don't cry, hush, don't," he was murmuring, though, kissing away the tears before he got up from the couch and helped her to stand. Sansa couldn't stop though, and she let him draw her close in a tight embrace. He still smelled the same, even after the last several years of absence, and she was glad of how solid he was now.

* * *

 

While Sansa was in the shower--and he sat in her bedroom to towel off and get dressed--he got another call from Davos. The internet backlash was moving at a pace that far outmatched the regular media, so far, but the internet would ferret out the dirtiest facts the soonest. It would be all over the regular news by tomorrow night or the night after. Part of him wondered if he should take the time to tell Sansa--warn her of the spotlight he was about to drag her into.

Another part of him--something sad and lonely and half-starved for affection--wondered if it would be better to just withdraw from the race in the morning, to try and reclaim the relationship he'd had with Sansa once before. Focus on helping her through Arric's illness, let her lean on him. It would mean he only had to kiss her baby, his own son, and no one else's. Robert had been whining that the CFO at Storms End was an idiot, hinting heavily that he wanted Stannis to either fill the position or find someone who would be able to both basically run the company and put up with Robert himself.

There were options, his life wasn't going to end if he had to end his campaign. Rather it seemed there was a lot more life to be had if he did.

But it wasn't a decision that he wanted to undertake after a quick fuck, tired and under stress as he was. Tomorrow would be a good time to begin those thoughts in earnest--but tonight he owed his time to Sansa and to her son. Stannis closed his eyes, imagining a little boy with auburn curls and dark blue eyes. He'd never met the boy, never even seen a photograph. Sansa hadn't wanted to share them, and after being financially rebuffed Stannis had not wanted to push her further. He hadn't needed Davos to tell him how much his actions had hurt her.

Hopefully now she would let him help, at least with the cost of the hospitalization, he thought later as they quietly walked out to his car. Sansa's overnight bag was slung over his shoulder, and they walked close together but didn't touch. Stannis wondered if some enterprising reporters would track him down tonight and demand statements--it was probably for the best that he have this discussion sooner than later.

* * *

 

"The press has gotten wind of our relationship, possibly even information about Arric," Stannis said as he started up his car. Sansa stilled as she clipped her seatbelt, looking at him as he resolutely stared forward. Davos had warned her that someone had been doing some checking--trying to find something dirty and pin on Stannis has his campaign gained traction. He was about the same as Willas Tyrell if examined on the issues, though Willas was more of a practiced politician than Stannis was. It would serve the Tyrell campaign well if Stannis were found to be lacking morally.

"The worst of it is online, right now," he continued, shifting the car into gear and smoothly accelerating, "but it won't take long for RTV to pick it up, and then on to the larger stations like KLTV."

Sansa was quiet, digesting the information. She knew that Stannis had had his people, lawyers and spindoctors and the like, clean up a lot of the evidence of their relationship. He had done his best to leave her out of the politics of his life, and she had appreciated that at least. Reporters didn't hound her for a comment every time Stannis said something controversial, and her life was blessedly private. No matter how painful their break-up had been he had at least given her that.

"What will you do?" She couldn't spend time thinking on what she would do, she had to worry about her son. Stannis was a grown man who could make his own choices.

"I imagine that my polling numbers will plunge, Davos will make me schedule an apologetic press conference, and I will concede to the Tyrell boy."

"Does it have to be that way?"

"I don't see another way, Sansa, and," he paused and glanced at her, his eyes falling to her lips and then back to hold her gaze, "it would give me time to apologize properly. To see if I--I ruined all my chances."

Sansa stared at him in shock, a lump in her throat as she wondered what exactly he meant.

"I should have married you, I shouldn't have--have been afraid."


	7. Chapter 7

Give the last kiss to me.

* * *

 

There. He'd said it. She would yell at him now, and he would know where he stood. Possibly Davos might be able to calm her anger, later, so whatever reporters found her wouldn't be able to record her ire at him.

"You were afraid? Afraid of what?" Stannis knew that voice. That deadly calm. She was furious with him.

"I was afraid you wouldn't stay. That you weren't appropriate. That I had been using you to--to--to feel young again."

Sansa didn't answer him for a long time but when she finally spoke she cut right to the quick. She had always been bright, and she wasted no time concealing that now.

"And now I am appropriate, enough so that you want what? For me to take you back? To play happy family with Arric and I?" They were nearly to the hospital and Stannis cleared his throat and told himself his eyes were hot from lack of rest, not unshed tears.

"Yes. Everything else is going to come crashing down and I can't beg all of Westeros to forgive me, but I can beg you. I am not completely dim, I do realize that you won't," he added with a bit of a laugh, "but I can at least ask." It was a deal braver than he'd been five years ago, and even now his heart was racing.

There were press vans near the doors of the hospital--some nurse or orderly had probably tipped them off, having seen them leaving together hours earlier. Stannis cursed under his breath as he parked. No one had seen his car yet, but it wouldn't be long--he would walk with his back straight, he decided but then soon flinched when Sansa's hand laid on his. Her fingers were cool on his and he quickly turned his hand to twine them together.

"You're not forgiven," her words spilled his tears, blazing hot trails down his cheeks because he wanted her forgiveness badly, "but that's not to say I won't ever forgive you. I have too much on my mind, and you hurt me a lot. But I think we can walk in to see our son together, I think that whatever the press says it will be best for them to see us together. United front and all that."

* * *

 

Jon was able to take a quick break and meet with them, translating the reports from Arric's doctors into something approaching regular language. The little boy was stable, and as long as they kept up with the antibiotics during his hospitalization he would be fine. Longterm complications for learning and other things wouldn't be readily seen for some time, but he was receiving the best care possible. 

The cameras flashing in her face just minutes earlier had been startling, but Stannis had held her hand tightly as they made their way through the crowd. She had shielded her face from the people who pressed closer to them, resting her forehead on Stannis' shoulder until they were well inside the hospital.

Even now, sitting with Jon outside of Arric's room in the ICU, Stannis let her be close. Leaning on him, settling her head on his shoulder. She still ached a little inside herself from when they'd made love, it had been a long time since she'd had anyone. Most people in King's Landing were terrified of getting involved with a woman who came with a kid, and her boyfriends never stuck around long. None of them had put together Arric's inky black curls with his dark blue eyes, though, and over the years she'd been grateful for their oversight.

"I didn't know he looked like me," Stannis said quietly, resting his cheek on her head. Sansa opened her eyes and stared across the hallway and wished she could hold her son. It was still all too soon for such things but it didn't change what she wanted. Tomorrow, once the twenty four hour window had passed, she might be able to hold him.

"You didn't? I thought with your brother spouting off during his divorce that all Baratheons looked like Baratheons you would have assumed that..." Oh. He'd assumed that Arric wasn't his, and he'd never done any more research to the matter. It was kind of sweet of him years ago, then, to have offered a stipend to help with her baby despite thinking it wasn't his. Stannis didn't think much of himself sometimes.

"He even has your eyes. You'll see when he wakes," she chose to say instead, choosing diplomacy over confrontation, closing her eyes and letting herself relax against him.


	8. Chapter 8

It's the safest thing to do.

* * *

 

July 21st - Evening

"And what do you think, of your father winning the election, young man?" Stannis smiled indulgently as the reporter bent down and put the microphone to Arric. The little boy stuttered a little but managed to compose himself.

"He'll be good, he'll frown a lot but he'll be good. I promise!" Sansa laughed and ruffled his black curls, and they endured the rest of the press conference in good grace together. Such attention had been nearly constant over the last several months, as first there had been outrage but then a photographer from The Dragonwing had snapped a photo of Stannis sitting with Sansa at the hospital where Arric had recovered from his brush with meningitis. They'd run it in their March release as the cover photo, complete with a story about their little family.

The picture showed Sansa fast asleep on his shoulder, his arm trapped between hers as she held on, while Stannis himself pressed a kiss to her hairline. His eyes were distant and distracted, but he held one of her hands tenderly as he did so. It had been captioned "Duty or affection? Stannis Baratheon, Chief Advisor from the Storm Lands, torn between heart and head."

People had eaten the story up, gulping down the details as they emerged. Stannis had of course gone through the motions, when the story first broke, of defending his actions and apologizing to those who felt he misrepresented himself. Sansa stood by his side as much as she was able, between looking after Arric and her own job.

Conservative pundits from metropolitan areas the Reach and the Westerlands had had a field day, wondering how many other fatherless children he trailed behind him. More liberal ones from Dornish cities like Skyreach and Sunspear had applauded his openness regarding his old lover and acceptance of his son. It had been a mess, a complete mess, until The Dragonwing story had run.

It was such a respected magazine, by people across Westeros and even Essos, that almost overnight public opinion changed. The smear campaign that the Tyrells had developed suddenly looked criminally petty, in light of the fact that Stannis had done nothing worse than have a relationship that ended. A child he offered to support but whose mother chose to go it alone. Coming dutifully to watch over that child when it fell ill, showing affection and love when none was actually required.

He hadn't hid anything, to the contrary he'd been painfully open.

The election had come down in a landslide. The North had thrown their support behind him when their Chief Advisor, a former Prime Minister himself, Ned Stark had stated unequivocally that he believed Stannis would take the country in the right direction. The Riverlands believed Sansa when she commented that there might be less need for lobbyists like her under a governement led by Stannis Baratheon, that special interests with too much money might see less influence and that the regular people--trampled by bad policies both at home and abroad--might see their lives improve faster and in a more lasting way with Stannis.

The Vale had erred on his side, barely, and Dorne had voted for him in great numbers--exit pollsters having hundreds of soundbytes from Dornish who voted for him almost out of spite. Spite for Reacher politics and spite for the more mainstream conservative Westerosi morals. His home territory of the Storm Lands was a shoe-in, and the only regions he did not carry were the Reach and the Westerlands.

Now he stood Prime Minister of Westeros, Chief of the King's Parliament, Lord of Policy, and perhaps most importantly soon to be wed to Sansa Stark.

* * *

 

July 21st, Morning

Sansa liked their slow mornings together, where Sansa woke up to Stannis and his hesitant but still insistent kisses. He started at her collarbones, then moved down to her breasts. His beard scratched her but she'd always enjoyed it a bit--the contrast between the softness of his lips and the scrape of his stubble. That was when Sansa would usually start waking up, winding her fingers into his short hair, caressing the back of his neck and shoulders.

She laughed and squirmed when he nibbled bites to her stomach, his lips tracing the stretch marks there that Arric had left, and his dark blue eyes would raise to meet hers when he kissed the largest of them. Her breath was fast as he put one of her legs over his shoulder and turned his full attention to her clit and folds.

It was a bit of crazy fun to make sure they stayed quiet enough that Arric didn't wake up, though the days that he spent with his aunt Arya gave them enough time alone that Sansa could make the noise she wanted to. This morning Arric was upstairs, though, and she had to be quiet. It was hard though as he kissed and sucked, and then worked a finger into her and curled it as he pulled it out--working her up to a climax that had her sucking in sobbing breaths even with her hand clamped down over her mouth.

As Stannis crawled back up to kiss her, stroking her hair as she recovered, she wondered what he would think. His smile had a little mischief as he pushed inside her, mischief that Sansa knew she could easily turn back on him in the next few minutes. She wrapped her legs around his hips and rolled her hips in time with his, kissing Stannis' neck as they moved together. Sansa was glad he couldn't see her face, the tears that were in her eyes as he moved in her.

"Stannis, Stannis, my love," he shivered as she spoke, a desperate little whine in the back of his throat, and she held his face between her hands--dark blue eyes meeting her own light blue. He was moving fast, hips slapping against hers, but his expression gentled from tight concentration to something tender and loving as they looked at one another.

"You're going to win," she said, tightening her legs around him to the point that he slowed and almost stopped, "and if you don't you're not going to lose." He huffed out a breathless laugh, nuzzling his nose against hers, pecking a kiss to her mouth and chin.

"Sansa, when you don't win you lose," he replied, grinding against her despite everything.

"You might not be Prime Minister at the end of the night," she said, "but you have me," she squeezed down on his cock on purpose, "you have Arric," she paused, staring up at him and wondering if her trust in him was misplaced, and deciding there was only one way to find out, "and you're going to be a daddy."

He was dumbfounded, his mouth hanging open as his eyes flitted all over her face, pulling away from her enough to look down towards where they were joined, at her still-flat belly, and Sansa couldn't help but giggle.

"Three months along now, it probably happened when you couldn't keep your hands off me when you came back from campaigning in Dorne." He kept staring at her and the pleasure started to wear off for her a little and she grew uncomfortable as he stayed motionless.

"Stannis, say something." Her discomfort was palpable and it snapped him out of his stupor.

"Arrana, or Lyonel," he said, his words gruff with emotion, "or whatever you please. How long have you known?"

"Weeks," she said, biting her lip and stroking the back of his neck, "but you needed to know today. So if you lose, you won't be losing anything. Not truly." Stannis exhaled as he hid his face from her, his sigh a gust of wind on her neck, and he clutched her tightly to himself as he did so.

"I don't deserve you, I don't, but I want you, I love you," he managed to say after a time, their lovemaking nearly forgotten, "I am so happy. I didn't think I could ever be, but I am. Because you are here," he said, and Sansa believed him.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed this! Leave a review letting me know what you think!
> 
> Also, if you have a chance maybe check out Clinging to the Wild Things That Raised Us by TheSweetestThing--it isn't a Stansa fic, but it is Oberyn/Sansa and is exquisitely written.


End file.
